And I suppose that I could think about that day while I am thinking about something else because I have the ability to think about 217 things at the same time. That is to say, that I can consciously access them all simultaneously. I'm not sure how I do this but my mommy said that my grandfather could actually talk to several people at the same time without confusing any of the conversations. It was like he had five or six brains or mouths. They all got used to it she said because it was like being in a restaurant or at a bank and if you were one of the people talking to him, his other voices and other conversations sounded like background noise or whatever that noise is called that you hear but don't pay attention to when you're out somewhere. I thought that was kind of strange because I've never heard people talking in a bank, even when I was little and voices were louder than they are now.
But being little wasn't so bad. When I was six I had a nanny whose name was Francesca. I remember thinking that I would like to suck the ice cream from her tongue. She taught me how to play cards and showed me how she unsnapped her bra. I remember thinking that her breasts were big, but they're probably bigger now. I mean she wasn't that old then, so I would have to calculate that her breasts are approximately a quarter bigger.
In a river, the color of the land, I touched.
i've said my hellos
I've said my hellos. I really have and you wouldn't believe how polite I've been about it, but that has nothing to do with anything. I want to tell you how easy it is to disappear for almost three months. Not really disappear, but unappear. I look through my window every once in a while and if I see somebody I laugh a little bit because they don't know what's going to happen. My windows don't have curtains. They have venetian blinds so I can make the slits as narrow as I want. Name blah blah blah. Date of birth blah blah blah. Description venetian blinds, eyes brown. Ha ha. That's supposed to be funny.
10 of the 77 things I am consciously accessing
1. The number of dead animals I've seen.
driving somebody else's car
A few days after Molly hung herself in my basement, I met my friends at the Doe Bar and I saw them with two girls, one of them hot, which one of my friends (Dick 'don't call me Richard') said they met at the park on the day that Molly hung herself. He also went on to tell me about the third girl who could have been the love of my life. But I'll never know now, will I? It's like driving somebody else's car only to find out you're not, or even worse, sitting in the backseat. That's supposed to make sense. I felt bad about lying to them. Yeah, I didn't tell you that. I lied to them and told them that the reason I didn't make it to the park the day Molly hung herself in my basement was because I had gone to the doctor and he told me I had three months to live, and that I needed some time to reflect on whatever I needed to reflect on before I had fun or enjoyed my last days in this world. The doctor didn't tell me that last part. They didn't believe me at first, but I didn't call them or answer my phone after I met them at the Doe Bar. I'd see them knocking on my door every now and then, so I left a note telling them that I needed time to reflect. Reflect reflect reflect. And if they could just leave me alone for a few days, which turned into months, to reflect, then maybe I would get better and live longer.
I know most people haven't thought about tungsten. I think it's a mineral or some element represented by one of those symbols on the periodical chart. You know, chemistry. If I had to take a guess without knowing what the symbol was I would probably first guess Tu, but that would be too easy and those chemistry people like to get tricky, so my real guess would be Tg. But if I were to make one up for it, I would make up Tt. Of course, if it's a mineral then I would probably give it a different name, like stungsten. It looks almost the same, but it's not the same. If it's not a mineral either then I would probably call it something else that ends with an even different letter.
she never concerned herself with my psyche
Here's something that you might find interesting but draw the wrong conclusions from: Molly looked like Francesca. I know. You're probably thinking that I needed to be with somebody who was like a mommy figure to me because Francesca was like a mommy to me because my mommy was never around. But that's not true. My mommy was always around. Molly just looked like Francesca. That happens. And even though Molly wondered why I never unsnapped her bra or played card games with her, she never mentioned it. Not once. She never concerned herself with my psyche. It was always about her her her. And if I didn't know better, I would say that yellow was her favorite color.
Since the day I told my friends the doctor gave me three months to live, I really think that I've started to die because I feel like shit and the number of thoughts I can consciously access simultaneously now has diminished to 17. My eyes move from left to right, left to right all the time and if I try to keep them from moving I get dizzy, stumble around for a while, and then start to pass out. I'm not trying now and I'm fine. That would make it difficult for anyone to see the color of my eyes through the venetian blinds, so in a way that's not such a bad thing especially if I wanted to access my furniture.
kites made out of paper
I used to
have curtains not too long ago. They were made
I'm sure that when Molly
was contemplating or
cogitating or whatever people
do who are about
to hang themselves,
would continue without
her. The thought that it could
never occurred to her
anyway. I don't get jumbled by
that because most
than the future.
And she wouldn't know
this right now, but she was
right. The world
to end with me.
© copyright 2004, sean brijbasi
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